We pass the central plaza. We pass the beautiful, manicured gardens I used to tend with meticulous care.
And then, we finally pass the boundary wall.
The exact moment we cross the outer kelp line, the entire mood of the marching army shifts. The muffled cheering of the citizens fades away behind us. It’s instantly replaced by the heavy, oppressive, and terrifying silence of the open ocean.
The shift is a physical blow. The filtered warmth of the Reef vanishes, replaced by a freezing water that slams into my chestlike a stone fist. The artificial light that painted the city in soft pinks and golds dies, swallowed by the absolute gloom of the open ocean. Every thrust of my tail feels sluggish, a fight against the crushing pressure that seeks to flatten my bones.
The Vanguard soldiers around me fall silent. The polished arrogance of the upper city dissolves, replaced by a raw, unspoken panic.
I shiver violently, the transparent mesh vest clinging to my skin like a film of cold oil, offering no insulation against the abyss's chill.
"Hold formation!" Taren barks, his voice a nervous, high-pitched crack in the crushing silence. Not a single soldier threatens to break ranks, but the command hangs in the water anyway.
We descend further into the gloom.
We are not plunging into the true trench. We are heading directly for the Gray Wastes—the vast, rocky continental shelf that brutally separates the safety of the reef from the endless abyss. It is a terrifying no-man's-land of jagged basalt ridges and strong, unpredictable thermal currents. A designated killing field.
I swim mechanically, my body operating on pure instinct. Stroke. Glide. Stroke. Glide. My mind is a blank slate, wiped clean by the cold and the crushing weight of this reality.
Mira stays permanently glued to my right side, her armored body a useless shield against the darkness. She checks on me every few minutes, her fingers brushing my bare arm, adjusting the thin strap of my worthless vest. She whispers breathless reassurances that I ignore, her words dissolving into the heavy, silent water around us.
"Find a defensible position in the rocks," she says, her eyes darting into the dark water ahead like startled fish. "We'll dig thesquad in tight. You won't have to fight anything, Vaelis. I'll take first watch. I'll keep them away from you."
Her words are useless to me.
We swim steadily for what feels like an eternity. The last faint glimmer of the Reef’s lights vanishes behind us, swallowed by the gloom, a distant mocking memory of safety. The ocean water grows darker, heavier with each downward stroke. The crushing pressure builds behind my eyes, a familiar dull ache.
Then, the Vanguard Commander's order cuts through the water. A sudden halt.
We have reached the Ridge. It is a towering spine of jagged rock that perfectly overlooks the steep descent into the Gray Wastes.
"Form up the lines!" the heavy orders echo down the chain of command, the vibrations a painful tremor against my temples. "Pikes to the front guard! Archers take the high ridge! All Reds report immediately to the Vanguard!"
My stomach drops.
Mira's fingers close around my wrist, her grip bruising. "No," she screams, the word a frantic bubble in the dead water.
"Red squad!" a Sergeant bellows, swimming toward our cluster of recruits. He’s a heavily scarred, brutal-looking veteran mer with half of his left ear missing. "You heard the Commander's order. Front and center right now. Let us see those bright colors shine."
"He stays right here with his assigned squad," Mira argues fiercely, placing her armored body directly in front of mine.
The Sergeant laughs. It is a dry, humorless bark grating against the water. "He stays exactly where I put him, soldier. Unless you want to take his place out there in the dark? Do you have any bright red scales hiding under that breastplate?"
He looks mockingly at her dull, brown-green camouflage armor. "I didn’t think so. Move your tail, Red Prince."
He reaches past Mira, grabs my bare arm, and hauls me forward out of the ranks.
"Vaelis!" Mira cries out in pure panic, trying to swim after me.
Taren quickly grabs her shoulders and holds her back. "Mira, you have to stop. You will get him executed for insubordination before the battle even starts."
I don’t look back at her tears. I let the Sergeant drag me away from the safety of the main line.
There are exactly six of us.
Six Royal Reds.
I recognize two of the other conscripts. Kailen is a very young, terrified male from the merchant district who always painted his bright red scales to look darker and more respectable. Elara is a striking red-haired female who used to perform acrobatic dances in the central plaza during the summer festivals. She is weeping silently, her tears washing away into the cold.
